


'Tis The Season to Be Flawless

by bekommissar_is_canon



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, becissar - Freeform, becommissar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bekommissar_is_canon/pseuds/bekommissar_is_canon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca joins a DSM fan group purely for research purposes. After all, it's the best way to anonymously gush about that physically gorgeous Kommissar, right? A Becommissar short story for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. German Geography Is Complicated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tealversace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealversace/gifts).



> Jingle bells! This is a short story for the 2015 Becommissar Holday Exchange, based on @tealversace's prompt: "Commissar runs a background fan group chat on twitter/kik/etc from a fake account to find out what the fans think of DSM. Beca joins, not knowing Kom is in it." I hope it lives up to your expectations, tealversace! 
> 
> Wishing everyone a 2016 filled with happiness, health and Becommissar love! Happy Holidays!
> 
> (Rated T for some swearing.)

_Das Sound Machine._

Beca gaped in astonishment at the endless search results on Google. Her screen was flooded with pictures, videos, fan pages and tweets of DSM, the German a cappella group taking over their national tour. An a cappella group with nearly a million likes on Facebook.

An extremely good looking a cappella group.

She took a deep breath and pushed back her chestnut hair. She was being ridiculous, being attractive was not going to win the Germans the World Championships. After all, the Bellas were a creative and talented bunch. This DSM couldn’t be that different from the dozens of a cappella groups she had seen in the past three years.

She flinched as she watched their winning performance at the European championships. Okay, so they _could_ be that different from the dozens of a cappella groups she had seen in the past three years. Their choreography was exciting and challenging, their vocal harmony was impeccable.

Not to mention their skin-tight costumes and black eyeliner smudged to perfection.

Oh, the Bellas were in it knee-deep.

***

She had spent the last two hours on the net out of necessity. It had nothing to do with Luisa Meyer, the lead singer with mile-long legs and blood-red lips.

After all, it was absolutely essential to know that Luisa’s star sign was Virgo and her favorite color was silver. It was critical for the Bellas’ success to know that she was born and raised in Freiburg, a picturesque city in Southern Germany. She enjoyed living in Köln, where the group was currently based, but she missed the sunny weather of her hometown. Yes, a crash course in German geography was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Beca closed her laptop and rubbed her tired eyes. According to DSM’s metallic homepage (even their website was intimidating), the group was starting their US tour next month. In five weeks they were scheduled to perform at the nearby Volkswagen showroom, which was organizing a huge PR bash for the launch of its latest hybrid car.

Tomorrow, she decided, she and Chloe would buy tickets for DSM’s car show. True, the entrance fee was rather pricey, but if Chloe was willing to pay three extra years of tuition for the Bellas, she would willingly pay to size the competition.

Hell, Beca would pay for all the Bellas to catch a glimpse of this Luisa and her best friend Pieter, whom she met in Portugal. She had a passion for languages and spoke eight languages fluently. Currently she was learning Turkish, her ninth language, because she was planning on visiting Istanbul next year.

She wasn’t being obsessive, she was simply doing vital research.

***

Beca, like everyone else, had her fair share of faults. She was more than aware of her reluctance to trust people, for example, or tendency to procrastinate. However, if there was one thing Beca knew she could rely on, it was her quick mind and sharp tongue. Sarcasm was her strength, and she never hesitated to use it.

Unfortunately, her sarcastic wit had decided to abandon her when she needed it the most.

“You … are physically flawless,” she had stated, staring at Luisa’s body shamelessly. “But it doesn’t mean I _like_ you.”

Luisa, who was even taller in person (or she had shrunk), had smirked at her knowingly. She had nude lipstick on that day.

Focusing on the word ‘nude’ had been her second mistake. “Aca-Wiedersehen, bitches!” her third.

To be fair, the rest of the Bellas were equally as gobsmacked by DSM’s performance. At dinner, nobody could talk about anything other than their freakish synchronization or vocal range. Thankfully, nobody mentioned Beca’s out-of-character behavior.

“We’re going to beat those German Dummkopfs at their own game,” said Chloe confidently, rinsing her plate. “We’re the Barden Bellas! We’re part of a _legacy._ ” 

“We’re an institution!” agreed Emily. “We have history on our side.”

“World War II. ‘Nuff said.”

“Beca, we’re going to need those arrangements as quickly as possible,” added Chloe. “Until then, we’ll work on our dancing.”

“Yes, of course, Chlo,” said Beca, trying to sound upbeat. “In fact, I’ll get to that right away.”

“Great!” beamed Chloe.

Beca smiled back at her best friend, feeling guilty for her wavering attention. To be honest, the music arrangements were the last thing on her mind. Her internship was more stressful than she had anticipated, her schoolwork was more demanding than ever, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about that Kommissar.

She closed the door to her room and put on her comfiest pajamas. Had she known she would be in such close proximity to a bunch of physically flawless Germans, she would have worn something else.

Against her better judgment, she opened DSM’s website and Facebook page. Both were flooded with a dozen updates; DSM must have a very active publicist. The photos and videos had already garnered thousands of likes and shares.

Beca sighed and ruffled her hair. There was no point in reliving that afternoon; she had watched them in person. She had seen them dance and sing in those heels and suits –

Wait a second. DSM had fishnets and combat boots on, she was sure of it. She peered at the caption of a bunch of photos uploaded a few minutes ago.

_‘Time to party! Cocktails at the Volkswagen showroom grand opening.’_

She scrolled through the glittering photos of the well-dressed, ecstatic DSM crew. Pieter was looking rather smart in a crisp red shirt and tight black pants. That insanely talented blond beatboxer was winking at the camera, his smudged eyeliner still on. This was all nice and good, but who she was really after was –

Holy aca-mole. Luisa.

There she was, champagne flute raised and red lips curled into a confident smile. She was wearing a shiny black pant suit with peep-toe platforms. Her sleek hair was piled into a side bun, showcasing a pair of shiny diamond studs.

She needed to see more photos of Luisa, and she needed them now. She reloaded the Facebook page – no updates. Where was that active publicist when you needed them? Perhaps the fans were doing a better job.

Sure enough, Twitter and Tumblr were teeming with excited fans sharing candid photos of the night. Luisa was now laughing hysterically with the DSM member with long black hair. They must get along rather well together; in no other photo had she seen Luisa smile so genuinely.

 _‘Wonder what Johanna and Luisa are laughing at?’_ tweeted dsm122.

 _‘ @dsm122 there’s an ongoing bet on kik ;)’ _replied kittybee_23.

Beca raised her eyebrows high. Was there something going on between the two?

Okay, she had to find this Kik group. She logged into her personal Twitter account and tweeted:

_‘ @kittybee_23 can I join your kik group? Is it public?’ _

One minute, two minutes, three minutes passed. She drummed her fingers impatiently on her laptop. Where had this kittybee_23 suddenly disappeared to?

 _‘@ r_aca sure you can! Send me your Kik username and I’ll add u :)’ _tweeted back kittybee_23. Sure enough, twenty minutes (and a shiny new Kik account) later, Beca was admitted to the DSM fan group.

Stuff the music arrangements and her musicology paper. She was taking the night off.


	2. Fairy-Elf is an Awesome Lady Dude

Luisa slipped off her tight, impractical heels and wiggled her toes in relief. The past day had been a rousing success; not only had DSM excelled in their inaugural US show, but the cocktail party had been the perfect PR event. Not to mention the fact that all this publicity hadn’t cost the group a dime!

“I’m dead,” groaned Tanja, with whom she was sharing a room. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Go ahead,” nodded Luisa. She stripped out of her chic clothes and started to unpin her elaborate bun. In the background she heard Tanja turn the shower on.

 _Knock-knock_. Luisa jumped at the sudden noise. Who could it be at this hour?

“ _Luisa, ich bin’s!_ It’s me!” hollered Pieter, her insufferable best friend.

She rolled her eyes. He could have come to borrow a toothbrush or ask for help to kill a stubborn zombie. With Pieter, one could never know.

“ _Warte mal,_ hang on,” she called back. She tugged on a Freiburg University pullover and opened the door to greet an elated Pieter.

“Let me guess. You need help with Zombie Attack.”

“Guess again,” he smirked, rudely barging inside her room.

Luisa stared at him with disdain. “Sure, make yourself at home.”

“You’ll stop glaring at me like that when I tell you why I’m here!” He waved his phone in her face. “You haven’t checked your phone yet, have you?”

“No, why?” she asked in surprise.

“Our social media accounts have exploded in the past six hours,” said Pieter happily. “Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, you name it. Our interview with MTV has gone viral!”

Luisa’s eyes opened wide at the hundreds of notifications. Elena, DSM’s manager and publicist, had anticipated a surge in activity, but even she hadn’t predicted this much.

“This is the perfect first step to extend our fan base to North America,” she said triumphantly. “Elena’s done a fine job of updating our accounts today.”

“That’s not all she’s done,” winked Pieter. “She’s also added a bunch of new members to our Kik group.”

Luisa raised her eyebrows in interest. “Now _that_ is news, indeed.”

“The discussions have become rather explicit,” he grinned. “Our new members are, shall we say, quite enthusiastic.”

“Explicit?” Luisa wrinkled her brow in confusion.

“Your admirers,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “Or, should I say, Kommissar’s admirers.”

She threw him a dirty look. “ _Du verarschst mich, oder?_ This is payback for the salt in the sugar jar?”

“No, but don’t think I’ve forgotten that.” He shoved his phone under her nose. “Go on, read ahead.”

Luisa scrolled down the lengthy conversation in disbelief. A few months ago, she had come up with the idea to start an anonymous chat group for DSM. Most of the time the conversations were rather superficial, but occasionally a fan would reward her patience with constructive criticism. Only Pieter and Elena know about the group, for if all twenty-odd DSM members were to join, someone would inevitably let the truth slip.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” she breathed. “This is rather disturbing, actually.”

“I’d say it’s rather hot. Did you see the speculations about you and Johanna?”

“ _Um Gottes Willen!_ For God’s sake, not this again!” she huffed.

“Not what again? What are you doing here, Pieter?”

A bewildered Tanja was staring at them, arms wrapped tightly around her bathrobe.

“Sorry for disturbing you at this hour,” said Pieter swiftly. “Luisa forgot her compact mirror downstairs.”

“Oh.”

“He was just leaving,” said Luisa, sensing Tanja’s discomfort. She couldn’t blame her; standing half-naked in front of Pieter was enough to make any straight girl flustered.

Pieter bowed deeply. “See you awesome lady dudes tomorrow.”

***

Luisa liked Tanja, she really did. She was a sweet, easy-going person who was a pleasure to work with. However, she was never, ever sharing a room with her again.

Luisa buried her face in her pillow in desperation. No, nothing could block Tanja’s foghorn-like snorting. How could a person shorter than Fairy-elf snore so noisily?

If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well amuse herself. She unplugged her phone and turned on the Wi-Fi connection. She flinched as her screen burst with notifications and messages. She wasn’t used to this amount of attention and public scrutiny.

 _This isn’t about you_ , she reminded herself. _This is your career. Don’t take it personally._ None of these comments on Kik about her muscular arms, steely gaze, or – she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment – large bust mattered. After all, the Kommissar didn’t exist; she was merely an illusion, Luisa’s public persona. Why should she care what people thought about her doppelganger?

Besides, what mattered was that everyone was in awe of their performance. Why, the Bellas had positively wet themselves! Not to mention Fairy-elf’s shameless compliments. What had she said again?

_Kommissar’s just physically flawless. I can’t even._

Luisa froze mid-scroll and stared at Music Mustang’s comment. Physically flawless?

_Scheiße._


	3. Entropic Molecules in a Weird Universe

“Looking good,” whistled Pieter.

“I’m not talking to you,” said Luisa sullenly.

“I was just having some fun,” he wheedled. “I said I’m sorry.”

“Making crude jokes about my personal life is not fun,” she spat.

“But it was Elena’s idea to –“

“I don’t give a shit whose idea it was! We don’t even know for sure who this Music Mustang is!”

Pieter rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s the troll. It’s actually cute, you know, the way she gushes about you.”

“She gushes like that because of you!” yelled Luisa in fury. She whipped out her phone and read aloud. “‘ _She is the most physically flawless lady dude ever.’ ‘In person she’s even hotter.’ ‘Who else ships her and Johanna?_ ’ Fuck this.”

“I’m sorry.” He grabbed her cold hand and gave it a tight squeeze.  “It won’t happen again. Forgiven?”

She snorted at his doleful eyes. “Don’t give me that face.”

“Which face would you like? The frowny one?” He creased his brow and looked at her menacingly. “Or the happy one?” he offered, grinning like an idiot.

Despite her infuriation, a muffled laugh escaped her mouth. One could never stay mad at Pieter for long. “You’re pathetic, you know.”

“ _Dankeschön_.”

***

When the Bellas received a singing invitation for the Najer Linsa A Cappella Dragon League, Beca figured her life couldn’t get any weirder.

No, Ninja Laser National Dragon A Cappella League.

National A Cappella Laser Ninja Dragon League. Yes.

“Fart noise?” Beca said uncertainly.

“Did you not see the parenthesizes?” demanded a curt voice.

This is what she got for claiming her life was done with being weird, she thought as she blew into her arm. After all, if her life were a science topic, it would be the law of entropy; always striving to become messier and weirder. Just ask Newton.

Was entropy one of Newton’s laws of physics? Or was it Keppler? Did Lavoisier talk about thermodynamics?

No wonder she was a liberal arts student.

“… Do not! Do not!” hollered the gentleman in the sparkly blue suit.

“You do not come to a gentleman’s house and touch his goose,” he stated, glaring at Amy.

Like Newton said. Weirdness.

***

If it weren’t for her ginger savior, Beca’s self-depreciation would not have stopped at ‘You’re ginormous!’

Beca smiled reassuringly at her worried friend. “I just need taller shoes,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. Chloe winced, but was kind enough not to burst her fragile bubble.

“Beca!”

“Jesse!” Blood rushed to her face at the sight of her boyfriend. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a lopsided grin. She couldn’t remember when she had last seen him smile.

In the distance a gong sounded and the room erupted in applause. “I have to go,” said Jesse apologetically and disappeared in the crowd.

“What’s happening? Why?” she asked in confusion, but he was already gone. She looked around the crowded, chaotic basement in bewilderment. Dozens of well-dressed people were mingling, the Treblemakers were all decked in matching purple jackets and the Kommissar had called her Tiny Mouse.

Physics, she reminded herself. Expanding universes and entropic molecules.

***

Feisty Maus was all dolled up and ready to party.

Luisa winked at her little Fairy-elf, whose cowering gaze stood in stark contrast to her revved-up Bellas.

“We have a showdown!” hollered the host enthusiastically. “Let’s do this face-off style!”

Luisa raised her eyebrows at the tall, self-assured Bella in shorts who was pointing rather suggestively at her nether regions. There was only one Bella whose interest mattered, and that was the squeaky troll whose gaze hadn’t wavered from her for a minute.

“90’s hip-hop jam!” cheered the crowd. She exchanged smirks with Pieter, who jumped to the front of the pack. The Bellas were going down.

***

Any other time, Beca would have been ecstatic to chat with the Green Bay Packers, a bunch of hilarious, talented and rather good looking athletes.

However, any other time she wouldn’t be in such close proximity to a woman she’d been dreaming of for two weeks.

She snuck a glance towards the elated DSM group, celebrating their riff-off victory. Luisa’s face was flushed in victory as she danced alongside Johanna and Pieter. How she managed to jump on those zillion-inch heels was a mystery to Beca, whose feet were already aching in her cheap boots.

“Enjoy the party,” said Jesse to Clay, who raised his bottle in thanks.

“What’s going on, Beca?” he demanded.

Beca knitted her brows. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he said in frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. I can’t even remember the last time we were alone together.”

“I’ve been busy,” she replied indignantly. “I have a new job, in case you forgot.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything!” he objected. “You’re the one who won’t reply my calls, or let me drop you off at work! And now you’re doing it again!”

“I’m doing what again?”

“Staring at that singer!” he huffed. “For the past half hour you haven’t taken your eyes off DSM! You can’t even stop staring when you’re talking to me!”

She felt her cheeks glow red in embarrassment. “I’m not staring at anybody. But even if I were, it would be none of your business.”

“It _is_ my business when my girlfriend is ogling someone else,” he objected. “Do you think I haven’t noticed? Ever since that car show, it’s been DSM this and DSM that.”

“That’s not true! I’m just –“

“Fantasizing about him?”

She paused at his choice of pronoun. _Him?_

“About who?” she asked blankly.

He sighed in exasperation. “That tall German singer, the one with black hair. The one you talked to before the riff-off.”

She stared at him in astonishment. Should she feel relieved or miserable that he thought she was fantasizing about another man?

Go with relief.

“There’s nothing to say,” she shrugged. “And like I said, it’s none of your business if I look at someone.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” he said sadly. “It’s not working out anymore, is it?”

“You want to break up?” she asked in disbelief.

He hung his head. “You said it, not me.”

Beca licked her dry lips. “Then maybe we should.”

“Maybe.”

They stared at each other wordlessly, both oblivious to the pounding music in the background.

“So this is it,” she whispered, a lump rising in her throat.

“I guess,” said Jesse softly. He rubbed her arm in farewell. “Take care, Becs.”

Her eyes welled up with tears. Never again would she hear him call her ‘Becs’. “You too, Jesse.”

He let go of her hand with a sad smile and disappeared into the crowd.

 _Move,_ she ordered her feet. Somehow, miraculously, her wobbly legs obliged. With each step she felt the numbness in her body dissipate, leaving a dull, throbbing pain in its wake. _Left_. A three-year relationship just ended. _Right._ The Bellas were in trouble. _Left._ She was obsessing over a fantasy. _Right._ Her procrastination had reached dangerous levels.

On her way out she passed the celebrating DSM clan. Despite her best efforts, her eyes swiveled to the right in search of Luisa. She was swigging a beer with the infamous Johanna. Both were laughing profusely at something.

Luisa wasn’t interested in her; she was just having fun at her expense. How could someone like Luisa ever be interested in her, anyway? She was just a stupid, tiny, flustered mouse. A mouse who had fucked up everything worthwhile in her life.

Johanna suddenly clasped Luisa’s face and pulled her in for a kiss.

Beca tore her eyes away from the duo and threw herself out the basement.


	4. The Cheating Vegan with Leather Seats

Before Luisa knew it, Johanna had pressed her lips firmly against hers.

“ _Was ist los mit dir?_ What has got into you?” she hissed.

“I - I thought this was your idea!” cried Johanna.

“ _My_ idea?” she repeated in horror. “We’re friends, _du Idiotin_! If I had any idea you felt this way –“

“That’s not what Pieter says!” spat Johanna, her thin face twisted in anger. “Don’t tell me you weren’t aware of anything!”

“ _Pieter_? What has Pieter got to do with anything?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she snorted. “You two are practically inseparable! He doesn’t _breathe_ without your permission!”

She balled her hands into fists. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“You two were just having fun with me, weren’t you?” Tears streamed down Johanna’s flaming cheeks. “I even bet all those Internet rumors were your idea!”

“I would never do anything like that!” she yelled, painfully aware of the fifty-odd people staring at them. She dearly hoped DSM were the only German speakers.

“Everyone knows you’d do anything for your career,” sneered Johanna. “Well, I won’t be a part of it. Go fuck yourself!”

***

 _Knock-knock_.

Beca looked up from the sink, the water murky with mascara and foundation. “It’s occupied!” she shouted.

Silence. She splashed more water on her face, hopes of salvaging her make-up long gone.

_Knock-knock._

“I said it’s occupied!” she repeated in annoyance.

“Tiny Mouse?” called a voice from the other side of the door. Beca froze in horror at Kommissar’s voice. _Shit._

“Go away!” she hollered in panic. There was no way in hell she was letting that gorgeous specimen with impeccable eyeliner see her like this.

“Are you alright?”

“None of your business!”

“Are you _crying_?”

“I said go away!” yelled Beca helplessly, knowing very well she wouldn’t.

“Open the door,” ordered Kommissar. Even her muffled voice was enough to intimidate her.

“Okay, give me a moment,” she relented. She blew her runny nose, rubbed her eyes one last time and unlocked the door. There she was, the flawless Kommissar, peering down anxiously at her.

Anxiously?

“ _Alles in Ordnung_ , Tiny Mouse?” Her smooth brow creased at her pitiful state.

“I thought it was Feisty Mouse,” she blubbered, doing her best to avoid Kommissar’s gaze.

“Feisty, then.” She laid a hesitant hand on her arm. “Why are you crying, Feisty Mouse?”

She shivered at her gentle touch. Her hand was so soft. “No reason,” she sniffed.

Kommissar nodded seriously. “I cry for no reason, too. Especially at parties.”

Beca let out a muffled laugh. “It’s a great way to embarrass yourself. Not that you’d ever do that.”

“Oh, I can embarrass myself,” she retorted. “I just did, actually. Shame you missed it.”

Beca stared at her disbelievingly. “ _You?_ No way.”

“Oh yes,” she replied, a tiny smile playing on her lips. She glanced at the shiny bar in the kitchen. “I think we could both use something stiff.”

“Sure,” she said in bewilderment, watching Luisa mix her a drink. Why wasn’t she making fun of her? Shouldn’t she have called her a troll by now?

“ _Prost_ ,” she said, raising her whiskey glass.

“Cheers.” She watched Kommissar drain her glass in one gulp and close her eyes.

“So.” She poured herself another drink and eyed Beca questioningly. “What’s up? Or rather, what’s down?”

“A lot is down,” she said quietly. “My life is a mess, the Bellas are toast, and my boyfriend just broke up with me.”

Kommissar raised her arched eyebrows. “That must really - how do the American kids say? - suck.”

“It sucks more than a vacuum cleaner,” she agreed. “Or an adult anteater.”

Kommissar laughed, her cobalt blue eyes crinkling in delight. “You have a delightful sense of humor, Feisty Mouse.”

Entropic molecules had taken weirdness to a whole new level. The Kommissar was actually _complimenting_ her.

“I do agree the Bellas are toast,” she added. “After all, nobody beats DSM. But I’m sure things aren’t as bad as they seem. And a man who dumps his girlfriend at a party is not worth crying over.”

Beca gave the Kommissar a shy smile. She was actually rather kind, this Luisa, when she wasn’t busy intimidating the shit out of the Bellas.

She wished she had the courage to tell her what had really triggered the waterworks.

“Plus, you already know what to do,” said Luisa mischieviously. “ _You dig your keys into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive …_ ”

She burst out laughing. “That’s right! _I carve my name into his leather seats …_ ”

“ _You take a Louisville slugger to both headlights and slash a hole in all four tires!_ ”

“… _Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats!_ Though I’m sure he’s never cheated on me,” she added quickly. “And he’s a vegan, so he wouldn’t have leather seats.”

Luisa rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You get the general idea.”

“No worries,” she grinned. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

Luisa stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“How did you embarrass yourself?” she asked impatiently. “Bet mine was worse. Got lipstick on your teeth or something?”

“I wish,” snorted Luisa. “I just got slapped in the face by my coworker because she thinks I’m sexually exploiting her.”

She choked on her drink, spraying the counter and Luisa with her spittle. “You _what_?” she spluttered.

Luisa glared at her. “She thought I was leading her on for publicity. Which I was _not_ , of course.”

“Wait a minute.” Beca opened her eyes wide in realization. “ _Johanna_ slapped you in the face?”

Luisa threw her a curious look. “Ye-ees. And you knew this how?”

“Lucky guess,” she shrugged, somehow managing to keep a straight face. So they weren’t dating, she squealed inwardly. _They were not dating!_ Take _that_ , Luhanna-shippers on Kik.

“A close friendship down the drain,” said Luisa dejectedly. “Not to mention the spectacle we made. However, I win again,” she added with a smirk. “My public humiliation was much worse than yours.”

Beca bowed her head courteously. “The mighty Kommissar wins yet again. But I’ll beat you someday, you wait.”

“I won’t hold my breath.” She drained her third drink and took a deep breath. “I’m going downstairs. Are you coming?”

“I need to wash my face first.”

Luisa shook her head. “ _Nein_ , Mouse, did you start wearing make-up yesterday? You need those make-up wet wipes.”

“But I don’t have any –“

“ _Ach Gott_ , you never bring make-up remover with you?” Luisa held her hand and led her out the kitchen. “Follow me, I have some in my bag.”

“Your hands are so soft,” said Beca dazedly as she followed Luisa to the sitting room.

“And yours are so dry, don’t you moisturize?” She rummaged through the mountain of coats, bags and faux furs until she found a black suede handbag.

“Here you go, Inexperienced Mouse. Wipes and hand cream,” smiled Luisa.

The universe was about to explode with weirdness, Beca could feel it.


	5. No DSM Fanfic Could Beat an Adult Moose

The next day at rehearsals was the most awkward Luisa had ever experienced. Everyone was uncharacteristically silent; nobody was cracking ridiculous jokes, Pieter didn't pull a single prank, and Johanna, her co-choreographer, acted as if she were invisible.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” puffed Luisa. “Look, Johanna, it was never my intention to mislead you. I hope you will accept my apologies.”

Johanna shrugged. “Thanks for apologizing, I guess.”

“The one who should be apologizing is me,” said Pieter withot a trace of his usual jocularity. “I was the one who caused this misunderstanding. I encouraged Johanna to be, shall we say, extra-friendly with Luisa.”

“And Luisa knew nothing of this?” asked Philipp disbelievingly.

“She told me to lay it off,” said Pieter. “I got carried away by the recent publicity we’ve had. I read people online ship Johanna and Luisa, and I … “

“Let’s just say that Elena thought this would be a great publicity stunt,” grimaced Luisa.

“Well, she got that right,” snorted Johanna, pulling a comical face. “People are actually calling us _Luhanna_.”

Everyone burst out laughing, thankful for an opportunity to clear the air.

“We have the weirdest fans.”

“Next thing you know, they’ll be writing fanfics about us.”

“Any fanfic about DSM couldn’t be any weirder than the real thing,” joked Pieter.

“Course it couldn’t, nobody’s weirder than _you.”_

As her colleagues gradually broke into their usual banter, Luisa cautiously approached Johanna.

“Are we good?” she asked quietly.

Johanna gave her a small smile. “We’re good.”

***

“Chloe!” Beca burst inside her best friend’s room in excitement. “I’m not a mess anymore!”

Chloe looked up from her Russian translations in surprise. “Come again?”

“Snoop Dogg thinks I’m a musical prodigy!” yelled Beca in delight.

“Stress,” muttered Chloe, shaking her auburn curls. “You sit down, now, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I’m not _crazy_!” protested Beca. “Well, not any more than usual. I’m interning for a music producer, and my idea for Snoop Dogg’s album saved the day!”

“You’re interning?” gasped Chloe, her bright blue eyes round like saucers. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to,” said Beca apologetically. “But my procrastination knows no boundaries.”

“Oh, Becs.” Chloe gave her silly friend a warm hug. “Well, then tell me about it now. When did you start? And did you meet _Snoop Dogg_?”

“I started two months ago,” she answered, pulling Chloe’s stuffed monkey on her lap. “And it was terrible at first. Everyone treated me like dirt, I didn’t get to do anything other than bring lunch or coffee.”

“Internships suck,” winced Chloe. “Not having to intern is the only thing worth graduating for, I swear.”

Beca nodded in agreement. “So anyway, today Snoop Dogg was in the recording studio for his upcoming Christmas album. The producer was really pissed off because he wanted the songs to have an edge.”

“Ooh, that’s hard. Christmas songs are notoriously tacky.”

“Tell me about it. But yours truly saved the day!” she said triumphantly. “Sing ‘Santa Claus is Coming Tonight’, go on.”

Sure enough, somehow Chloe’s sweet voice and Beca’s masterful additions made the tackiest song in the entropic universe sound superb.

“Aca-awesome, Becs!” beamed Chloe. “A cappella is so underrated.”

“And that’s not the best part!” added Beca animatedly. “The producer was so impressed, he invited the Bellas to his Christmas party and offered to listen to my work!”

“Ohmigosh!” squeaked Chloe. “This is aca-mazing! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you!” She squeezed Chloe’s hand in gratitude. She should have known Chloe wouldn't be anything but supportive.

“I’m using this momentum to get the rest of my life back on track,” she said determinedly. “I’m going to finish my musicology paper without asking for an extension. I’m getting the arrangements done this weekend. Nobody will beat the Bellas!”

“Becs is back!” cheered Chloe.

“Aca-yes,” grinned Beca. “Thanks for listening, Chlo. Sorry for interrupting your self-torture.”

“Very funny.” Chloe watched Beca stand up and stretch her arms. “Becs?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure your procrastination’s the reason why you didn’t tell me about this?” she asked tentatively.

Beca grimaced. “I guess I was kind of afraid of your reaction as well.”

“Oh, Becs.” Chloe shook her head with a smile. “You know I’ll always be there for you. Except for when you’re talking to the Kommissar.”

Was Chloe _smirking_?

“What are you –“

“Thanks to you, I always receive a verbal beat down,” she winked. “I don’t want to be shipped like an adult moose again.”

“Oh.” Beca visibly relaxed. “I don’t want that, either. See you later, Chlo.”

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders, Beca left her best friend’s colorful room, whose heart-shaped face inexplicably drooped as the door closed.

***

Luisa stretched lazily on the hard hotel bed, the stiff sheets crinkling as she shifted her weight. She didn't mind spending most of her time in hotel rooms in unfamiliar cities; on the contrary, she relished the constant change of scenery. Sometimes she wished she were born into a nomadic tribe, where she could spend her days on horseback and live in tents forever.

“Luisa!” Pieter was banging at the door. Again. She stood up with a groan and shuffled to the door.

“You banned me!” exclaimed Pieter as Luisa cracked the door open.

“So nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned, blocking his way in. “I banned Elena, too, if it’s any comfort.”

“But why?” he whined. “And let me in already!”

“You know perfectly well why. Now let me unpack and go to bed, I’m tired.”

Pieter hung his head. “You don’t like me anymore.”

“I won’t if you don’t stop bugging me,” she frowned. “Look, this Kik group was my idea. I get to decide who participates and who doesn’t. Got it?”

“I get it,” mumbled Pieter in defeat.

Luisa had to laugh at his pathetic state. “You know I can't stay mad at you, you big goofball. Now go to sleep."

*** 

If Beca was going to get her life sorted, that also meant putting an end to her Kommissar obsession.

She unlocked her phone and took a deep breath. She was going to delete that Kik app right now. True, the DSM Kik group was fun, scandalous and sometimes downright ridiculous, but she was going to get rid of it this second.

Her finger hovered over the app icon. Delete. Do it.

As if the Kik gods had sensed her sacrilegious behavior, her phone bleeped with the arrival of a Kik message.

Well, she couldn’t delete the app without replying. That would be rude.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Hey, Music Mustang. It’s the group admin. I have decided to close this group because of recent discussions that have gotten out of hand. I just wanted to say thanks for your kind and insightful comments. Celestina

 **Music Mustang:** Hey there :) Thanks for trying to keep things civil! I really appreciate your efforts. I guess it’s all for the best.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** How did you get interested in DSM, if I may ask?

 **Music Mustang:** I watched them live and have been hooked since then. You?

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Same. Which performance was that?

 **Music Mustang:** The auto show one. When did you first watch DSM?

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Five years ago in Stuttgart. That was before Luisa had joined the group.

 **Music Mustang:** Wow. I can’t imagine DSM without the Kommissar.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Me neither. I’m glad she’s in the group.

 **Music Mustang:** I’m not sure if I should be grateful or not…

 **Celestina Warbeck:** What do you mean?

 **Music Mustang:** It’s complicated. :) She’s very intimidating.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Maybe, but she’s human. That’s probably just her performance-face.

 **Music Mustang:** I love her face. I know everyone on Kik writes about how sexy she is and everything, but I really love her smile and eyes. Don’t you?

 **Celestina Warbeck:** If I wasn’t a huge DSM fan I wouldn’t have started the group ;) So you live in the US?

 **Music Mustang:** Yes, you?

 **Celestina Warbeck** : I’m German, but I’m in the US on business for a few months.

 **Music Mustang:** Nice. I remember you mention you were busy these days, are you hard at work?

 **Celestina Warbeck** : Yes, I’m a performer. It can get tiring. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.

                               Speaking of worlds, I’m really looking forward to the World Championships.

 **Music Mustang:** Me too, it’s very exciting! You know, I’ll be watching the whole thing live.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Sounds great. I plan on being at the Worlds, too. Maybe we’ll run into each other.

 **Music Mustang:** Sure, who knows :) Between you and me, I’m rooting for the Barden Bellas. Shhhh.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** I don’t know much about them, but they seem very nice and down-to-earth.

 **Music Mustang:** Don’t they? They’re aca-mazing, just saying. As much as I love DSM, they’re going down at the Worlds :)

 **Celestina Warbeck:** We’ll see. I personally think the Naan Stops have a fair chance of  winning, too.

                                I’ve enjoyed chatting with you, Music Mustang. Feel free to drop me a line anytime, I’m always on Kik.

 **Music Mustang:** Thanks, nice talking to you! I was planning on exiting the group anyway, since it was getting overwhelming. But I’m always open to DSM updates from you!

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Sure, same here. Sleep well and take care.

 **Music Mustang:** Sleep tight! See the Kommissar in your dreams ;)


	6. The Cloak-and-Dagger Mistletoe

“Jingle Bells, fishy smells, kindle all the way!”

“Frosty the Snowman had a very shiny nose!”

“If you don’t have a chimney, Santa ain’t coming!”

Luisa sighed loudly as her bandmates singed noisily down the stree, on their way to a music producer’s Christmas party. Everyone was looking forward to a night of relaxation after three weeks of non-stop performing.

An awkward, twenty-something young man greeted them, tripping over his shoelaces. Surely this wasn’t the legendary Keagan Stephens with the infamous temper?

“Take their coats!” hissed a tall, good-looking man in a crisp suit. “Ah, Das Sound Machine! What a pleasure it is to have you at our humble party! Please, make yourselves comfortable – ah, champagne! Why, you shouldn’t have!”

“I _told_ you we shouldn’t have,” muttered Pieter.

“Step right in, right this way,” beamed Keagan, leading the way inside the spacious studio. “We have a wonderful night planned for you! Treat yourselves to a drink, try our scrumptious canapes – I am particularly fond of the shrimp cocktail – and watch out for our Santa, who will be arriving with gifts for everyone!”

Luisa nodded in bewilderment as Keagan shoved a champagne flute in her hand and disappeared into the crowd.

“No wonder they call him Hurricane Keagan,” chortled Johanna. “This is going to be a fun night.”

“It will be if Santa brings Mrs. Claus along,” grinned Pieter, scanning the room eagerly.

“Forget Mrs. Claus, this is a great opportunity to network!” said Luisa irritably. “Who knows who will be here tonight?”

“Ooh, I see Snoop Dogg!”

“The Green Bay Packers are here again, too!”

“This time I’m getting Clay’s phone number, you wait.”

“We’re not _sightseeing_!” scowled Luisa. “Go mingle! Have your business cards at the ready!”

 “Want me to give Inflexible Tina a business card?” questioned Pieter.

“ _Inflexible Tina?”_ repeated Luisa in confusion. “What the – the _Bellas_ are here?”

“Now, now, let’s not get distracted,” said Pieter reprovingly. “We’re not _sightseeing_ , you know.”

***

Okay. This time was different. Beca was a _changed_ person now. She was completely focused on her schoolwork and the Bellas. She didn’t have time to be intimidated by a _German singer_.

What was Germany’s biggest contribution to music? A song called _‘Ninety-nine Air Balloons’_. She felt like laughing hysterically, now that she came to think about it. Aca-absolutely _nothing_ to be intimidated about.

Still, she’d rather keep her eyes firmly glued to her phone until her heartbeat returned to normal.

 **Magic Mustang:** Merry Christmas Eve if you celebrate! Happy Holidays!

Was Luisa still watching her? Surely not. She sneaked a peek above her phone.

Of course she was. Now they had locked eyes. Dammit.

“Merry Christmas, Tiny Mouse!” sang Luisa, raising her glass with a wink.

“We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Sappy New Year!” thundered the rest of DSM.

No wonder the Germans weren’t famous for their sense of humor.

“So we meet again, Feisty Mouse! Or should we call you Festive today?” Oh no, Luisa was walking straight towards her, swaying her hips rather suggestively. Beca took an instinctive step back and stepped on someone’s foot. “Watch it!” yelled a burly man behind her.

Fuck, she was cornered with nowhere left to hide. This must be how the antelope feel in those National Geographic shows.

“Why, are you running away from me?” asked Luisa in mock horror.

“You wished, you gorgeous specimen,” she retorted, doing her best to keep her eyes off her cleavage.

Luisa smirked knowingly. “You like my clothes, Festive Mouse? I just bought this outfit. At first I thought it was too tight, but now I think it fits me perfectly.”

“Fuck yes,” agreed Beca vehemently. “I mean, well, I think it’s a very nice outfit, very nice indeed.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Feisty,” glinted Luisa. She laid a soft hand on her blazing cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to play pretend.”

Beca gulped. What did she mean? She wouldn’t mind playing certain games with her, that was for sure.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Luisa’s long, scarlet fingernails dug momentarily into her flesh. “Watch out for the mistletoe,” she whispered. “It’s everywhere tonight.”

“Santa Claus is going underground!” bellowed Johanna and Pieter in the background.

***

Nothing fazed Beca anymore. Not even the sight of Pieter playing Christmas carols on the piano and the Bellas singing along. Beca didn’t dare join them, for Luisa was sitting on the piano, drinking champagne. She twirled her phone with a smirk playing on her blood-red lips.

 _Stop staring, Beca_. She teared her eyes away from Luisa’s bare shoulders and checked her phone.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you, too! How did your pop quiz go?

Thank heavens Celestina Warbeck was online. She quickly typed in reply:

 **Music Mustang:** It went great! I got an A-, I couldn’t believe it. Plus my musicology professor offered me a position on his next research project!

 **Celestina Warbeck:** That’s aca-mazing! Proud of you. Guess you’re celebrating now?

 **Music Mustang:** Yep, I’m at my boss’ Christmas party :) You?

 **Celestina Warbeck:** I’m at Keagan Stephens’ Christmas party. He’s a Grammy-award winning music producer.

Beca gaped at the screen. Keagan Stephens? There was only one Grammy-award winning Keagan Stephens, surely?

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Keagan ‘Hurricane’ Stephens. I can see where his nickname comes from.

Holy moly fucking aca-mole.

 **Music Mustang:** He’s my boss :O Are we at the same party???

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Really? Well, I guess we are! In fact, I can see you.

This is what she got for claiming nothing could faze her anymore.

 **Music Mustang:** How the fuck can you see me??? You don’t know who I am!!!

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Oh, I can. I see you standing in the corner next to the Christmas tree. You have a V-cut gray sweater and black pants on. I would have paired that outfit with different shoes, but I digress.

Entropy or no entropy, this was just too much to take. Beca raised her head and looked around the room in horror, searching for someone typing on their phone.

 **Music Mustang:** Who the fuck is this?? Is this some kind of a prank? Because if you’re trying to freak me out, you’ve succeeded.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** It’s not a prank, I assure you. There’s no need to furrow your brow like that.

 **Music Mustang:** Okay, enough with the games. Tell me who the fuck you are right now.

 **Celestina Warbeck:** Why don’t we play a game? You have until midnight to find out who I am. I will leave clues around for you to find. If you succeed, you will have one wish for me to grant. If I win, you will fulfil mine.

 **Music Mustang:** Wtf?? Why are you doing this? Just come out and say who you are already!!

 **Celestina Warbeck:** You have two hours, Mustang. Good luck and lose nice.

Beca covered her mouth in astonishment. What the fuck was going on with the sudden cloak-and-dagger attitude?

More importantly, who the fuck was this, so eager to play games? Since when did this person know who she was? How the fuck was she supposed to find ‘clues’ in this crowded place?

Einstein wasn’t joking when he said universes can expand forever.


	7. Rebellious Elves and Magical Cars

“Pieter! _Hör auf zu spielen_! Stop playing!” hissed Luisa, as Pieter finished playing ‘Santa Claus is Coming Tonight’.

“ _Was ist los?_ What’s the matter?” he muttered, bowing to the applauding guests.

“I need your help, and don’t talk in English,” she said urgently. “Don’t ask any questions, just do as I say. We might need Johanna’s help as well.”

“Okay,” he shrugged, as if Luisa asked him to help her pull a prank every day. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to be Santa Claus and hand out the gifts.”

Pieter nodded without question. “Can do. _Wer ist unser Opfer?_ Who’s the victim?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said shortly, drumming her fingernails on the piano. “Now hurry!”

***

The enemy was out there, one of the fifty-odd people at the party. Anyone could be the target, anyone could be out to get her. This must be what paranoia felt like.

The important thing is to suspect everyone, she reminded herself. The murderer was always the nice old lady, or the dog, or Maggie Simpson. For all she knew, even Chloe could be Celestina.

“Miss Mitchell?” She jumped in fright as a waiter tapped her on the shoulder.

“The lady sent this drink with her compliments,” he said with a straight face, handing her a Bloody Mary.

“What lady? Who sent this?” asked Beca in bewilderment, but the impassive waiter ignored her and walked away.

Okay, this had to be her first clue. She took a sip, shuddering at the pungent taste of tomato juice. The _lady_ sent this drink with _her_ compliments. Her username was Celestina Warbeck. (Where had she heard that name before?) It was probably safe to assume the person was a woman.

Why a Bloody Mary, then? She frowned at the celery stick floating in the glass. Could it be she was wearing something red? Or was her real name Mary? Was she a bartender?

She rolled back her sleeve to check the time. Ninety minutes left.

***

“Oh, I am sorry!” said the blond DSM beatboxer apologetically, handing Beca a wad of tissues. “I didn’t see you behind me, being rather tall and all.”

“It’s alright,” mumbled a thoroughly soaked Beca. The tissues dissolved in her wet hands, which now reeked of vodka.

“Philipp! You’ve drenched the tiny elf in orange juice!” exclaimed Johanna. “That stain won’t come out without water. The bathroom’s down the hallway.”

“I work here, I know where the toilet is,” said Beca, annoyed.

“Well, then, go and freshen up! Your sweater looks terrible!”

“But I don’t want to –“

“You must!” insisted Johanna, practically dragging her to the bathroom. She opened the door, pushed Beca inside and shut the door with a bang.

What the fuck just happened? This night was getting weirder by the second.

She might as well wash her hands. As she reached for the soap, her eye caught a Post-it on the wall.

A not from Celestina! She hastily wiped her hands and peeled off the scrap of paper.

 _Use a clean towel._ Beca scratched her head in confusion at the cryptic message, but dutifully opened the cupboard in the corner. Feeling rather foolish, she fished out the stack of fluffy towels.

 _Thunk._ Something shiny fell onto the floor. This must be the next clue! She hurriedly stuffed the towels back in the cupboard and picked up the small object.

A harmonica! Beca gave it an experimental blow. What could it mean? Probably that she was a musician, which would rule out the assistants, bartenders and waiters.

Beca froze mid-breath. Johanna and that beatboxer had led her to the bathroom. Could it be that Celestina was a DSM member? Or were they simply a red herring?

***

Only twenty minutes left, and all she had to show for it were a harmonica and a sticky sweater.

“Becs, is everything alright?” asked Chloe anxiously. “You look kind of worried.”

“I’m fine,” she smiled. “I’m just a little preoccupied, that’s all.”

“If you say so,” said Chloe doubtfully. “We won’t stay much longer, anyway, right? It’s nearly midnight.”

“Not yet!” protested Beca, earning herself a puzzled look from her friend. “I mean, it’d be rude to leave now. Everyone’s still here.”

Chloe patted her arm warily. “Okay, we’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

“Gather round!” called Keagan, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “We have a very special guest tonight, someone whom all of you have been dying to see! Well, at least those of you who have been nice this year!” The crowd laughed politely. “Please, everyone, let’s give a warm welcome to the one and only – Santa Claus!”

The speakers blasted Snoop Dogg’s and Beca’s jingle as Santa Claus walked inside, carrying a ginormous sack of gifts. He was a rather unorthodox Santa, thought Beca, what with his perfect posture and youthful face.

“Ho, ho, ho!” boomed Santa as the guests clapped appreciatively. “This year has been a lot of hard work, I won’t lie. The elf unions have been giving me hell, they want their own reindeers. What’s more, Mrs. Claus thinks I am a workaholic and is filing for divorce. I apologize profoundly for her absence.”

“Just hand out the presents!” muttered Keagan, his smile waning.

“But of course, my dear fellow,” bellowed Santa. “This is for you, the best music producer in the history of the Milky Way.”

Was it Beca’s imagination, or did Santa speak with a faint accent?

Santa slowly worked his way through the crowd, handing out gifts of every shape and size.

“Ah, you have not been so nice this year!” remarked Santa when it was Beca’s turn. “Well, not to worry, I have just the thing here to sweeten you up.”

He tossed a small, lumpy package at her, gave her a wink and moved along.

“What did you get?” asked Emily eagerly, who was clutching her silver and gold candles.

“I got … plants?” said Beca uncertainly, staring at the prickly green leaves in her hand.

“That’s mistletoe!” pointed out Cynthia-Rose.

“Looks like Santa wants to get lucky tonight,” quipped Amy.

Mistletoe. That was a rather unusual gift for a lucky dip, frowned Beca. This had to be Celestina’s last clue.

 _Think,_ she ordered herself. A Bloody Mary, a harmonica and mistletoe. Two DSM members had lured her into the bathroom. _I’m German_ , she had written three weeks ago. She had watched DSM live in Stuttgart. Assuming she had been telling the truth, it almost certainly had to be a DSM member.

 _Before Luisa had joined the group_. Oh fuck.

_The mistletoe is everywhere tonight._

It could only be Luisa.

Beca didn’t know whether to cry, or sing, or run away to a remote island. She had been chatting with _Luisa_ for all this time? _Luisa_ had been the admin of the Kik group?

Luisa, the intimidating, steely Kommissar, had written all that kind, thoughtful stuff for the past three weeks?

_Aca-awesome! So proud of you._

_They seem very nice and down-to-earth._

She needed to find Luisa, and she needed to find her in – she glanced at her watch – three minutes. Unsurprisingly, she was nowhere to be seen.

If the mistletoe was a clue, either they spoke German in the North Pole, or Santa Claus was Pieter in disguise. She pushed through the bulky Green Bay Packers and tugged on Pieter’s costume.

“I know it’s you, Pieter,” she blurted. “I need to find Luisa. Where is she?”

“Aren’t you a clever thing,” cooed Pieter, his smile evident under the bushy beard. “Well, I can’t tell you that, little troll. That would be cheating. But I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I have three minutes!” she said impatiently.

“Not my problem,” he said in a sing-song voice. “All I know is she went skydiving and rocky mountain climbing. Where would you go?”

Beca sighed in exasperation as Pieter strolled away, humming to himself.

 _Skydiving and rocky mountain climbing._ He was referring to the riff-off, surely.

 _You know what to do_ , Luisa had said. _You dig your keys into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive …_ Was she outside at the parking lot?

She hoped dearly she hadn’t driven to Louisville.

Beca ran outside, acutely aware she only had two minutes left to win the bet. It was snowing lightly, the snowflakes shimmering against the faint light of the street lamps, but Beca had no time to grab her coat.

“Luisa! Where are you? I know it’s you!” she yelled, running around the building to the parking lot.

“You just made it, Festive!” rang a throaty voice. Beca turned around to face a beaming Luisa, who was holding her coat. “Put this on, Mouse, you’ll catch a cold.”

“You evil specimen!” exclaimed Beca.

“Not evil, just playful,” grinned Luisa, draping her shimmery scarf around Beca’s neck. “Congratulations, my Feisty Mouse.”

Beca could smell Luisa’s dizzying, intoxicating scent on the scarf. “I told you I would beat you someday,” she inhaled.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” admitted Luisa. “You’re not angry at me, are you?”

Beca smiled bashfully. “I have to admit, you had me pretty freaked out at first. But now I just feel … _happy_.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She gently held Beca’s cold hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “Chatting with you has been the highlight of my past few weeks.”

“Likewise,” said Beca shyly, finally mustering the courage to look into Luisa’s beautiful eyes.

“Do you still have the mistletoe?” asked Luisa softly.

Beca fished out the prickly leaves out of her pockets. “It’s everywhere tonight,” she sighed.

“We should watch out,” whispered Luisa, gently prizing the mistletoe out of her shaking hand. “If it were over our heads, we would have no choice but to kiss.”

“Heaven forbid,” breathed Beca, watching Luisa raise her hand to the sky.

“Heaven forbid,” agreed Luisa.

Beca felt a shiver run down her spine as Luisa took a step closer, pressing her body against hers. She could count the snowflakes on her golden hair, study the flecks of gray in those cerulean eyes. She could sense her warm breath on her face.

She could feel her lips travel from her neck to the corner of her mouth.

Luisa let the mistletoe fall to the ground and cusped her face with strong hands. She instinctively rose to her toes, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Luisa's lips were so soft, her kiss so tender, so unlike a man’s rough mouth. Her hands ran down Luisa’s strong back, exploring the curves she had dreamed about for so long. A moan escaped her as Luisa sucked on her upper lip, only to be swallowed by Luisa's own panting.

No dream, no fantasy, no man’s touch could come close to this moment of bliss.

After what seemed like an eternity, they came up for air, gulping in gallons of the crisp winter breeze.

“Oh, your face is covered in my lipstick,” laughed Luisa affectionately.

Beca exhaled, savoring Luisa's heady taste on her lips. “I’ve been dreaming of that for a long time."

“Me too, _liebe Maus_.” Luisa planted a kiss on her frozen nose. “You look adorable. And ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” smiled Beca, clasping her hands behind Luisa’s neck. “Celestina.”

“Mustang.” She rested her hands on Beca’s waist. “Why Mustang, by the way?”

“I like cars,” explained Beca, nestling her head in Luisa’s chest. She fit perfectly under Luisa’s chin. “I helped my dad build hot rods when I was a kid.”

Luisa raised her eyebrows. “That is impressive! Mechanical Mouse.”

“Who’s Celestina Warbeck?” asked Beca. “I know I’ve heard that name before.”

Luisa gasped in horror and playfully slapped her backside. “From Harry Potter! The Singing Sorceress! The Wizarding Wireless Network!”

“Oh yeah, now I remember,” said Beca sheepishly. “I don’t know, I stopped reading Harry Potter after the fifth book.”

“You’re kidding! Ignorant Mouse!”

Beca ran her fingers through Luisa's silken hair. “Let me guess, you’re a Slytherin."

“ _Aber natürlich_ ,” she nodded seriously. “And you are a sweet little Hufflepuff.”

"That's so cute," giggled Beca. "The almighty Kommissar is a Harry Potter geek!"

“Don't push your luck," grinned Luisa. "Come on, let’s go inside. I don't want you to catch a cold.”

“I don’t mind where we are, as long as we’re together."

“My Sweet Mouse.” Luisa gave her a tender kiss and tucked her hand in the crook of her arm. “I have no intentions of going anywhere.”

Beca rested her head on Luisa’s shoulder contentedly. “Me neither, Celestina.”

They slowly made their way back to the studio, listening to the snow crunch beneath their feet.

“I might be little, but I’m the perfect height for snuggling,” said Beca happily.

“Everything about you is perfect,” said Luisa, not a hint of irony detectable in her sensual voice. “Perfect Mouse.”

Oh, she could listen to Luisa speak all day.

When they reached the front door, Luisa took a deep breath. “I understand if you don’t want us to be seen together.”

“I don’t want to hide anything,” she said softly. “But thank you for being so thoughtful.”

Luisa stroke her hair in reply, her shimmering eyes speaking volumes. “As you wish, Perfect Mouse.”

“By the way, what did the clues mean?” asked Beca as she rang the doorbell.

“I admit the Bloody Mary was a long shot,” conceded Luisa. “But it was the only suitable drink I could think of. You know, red for my nails and lipstick.”

“And the harmonica?”

“That should have been obvious!” exclaimed Luisa. “It’s a musical instrument! A _sound machine_! Didn’t you get it?”

Beca clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t think of that! Gosh, you have a creative imagination.”

“You don't know yet how creative I can be,” she gleamed mischievously.

Beca felt her body pulsate in anticipation. “I still have a wish for you to fulfil."

Luisa tightened her grip on her waist. “I am at your command, Feisty Mouse.”

Billy, Keagan's awkward nephew, opened the door. "I thought you two were already here," he stuttered.

"We went out for a spell," winked Beca.

"Yes, we had a Mustang to repair," added Luisa.

"That eggnog must be really strong," muttered Billy. Beca heard Luisa stifle a chuckle as he scurried away.

"It's past midnight, Festive Mouse," she smiled. "Merry Christmas."

Beca craned her neck to brush her lips against Luisa's. "Merry Christmas, Celestina. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas gift."

"I haven't given you your gift yet," whispered Luisa, her tongue lingering on Beca's teeth.

Beca shivered as she felt Luisa's pulse against hers. "I hope it's the gift that keeps on giving," she murmured.

"Oooh, sexy!" whooped a high-pitched voice, causing Beca to jump back in fright. There was Pieter, watching them kiss with a huge smile on his dorky face. 

Luisa rolled her eyes. "Grow up already, Pieter." 

"For your information, my name is Santa the matchmaker," said Santa haughtily. "And you're welcome for all my help."

"Thank you, Santa the matchmaker," laughed Beca. "Sorry to hear about Mrs. Claus."

"The bachelor life isn't so bad," shrugged Santa. "Better than Mrs. Claus, anyway."

Luisa draped a protective arm around Beca's shoulders."Sorry, Santa, but having a gorgeous girlfriend is the best."

"Oooh, sounds like someone's in _love_ ," taunted Santa, waggling his bushy eyebrows.

Luisa's lips rested on the top of her snowy hair. "You got that right, Santa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in favour of a cheesy ending say 'Aye'! Ah well, it's the holiday season. Happy Holidays and a Sappy New Year!


End file.
